Liberation Day
by Jenksel
Summary: Time to meet the parents, Jenkins...


It was a happy day in the Portland Annex of the Metropolitan Public Library. After many months together as a couple, Cassandra Cillian and Jenkins decided it was time for her to make the Annex her permanent home, and today was moving day.

The decision had been prodded along, actually, by the Library itself. Delighted to see its ancient Caretaker finally participating actively in life again and finding new love with Cassandra (and ashamed of its own neglect of Jenkins over the centuries), it decided to add a spacious and distinctly feminine suite of Cassandra's own onto Jenkins's suite, with the bedroom that they had shared more nights than not in between. Jenkins was overjoyed and Cassandra was ecstatic when they discovered the addition. She broke her apartment lease the same day and packed up her possessions. That was a few days ago, and Jenkins was supposed to be helping her unpack now, but his contributions were proving to be somewhat less than helpful.

"My God, Cassandra," Jenkins said in bewilderment as he beheld the sheer volume of clothes, shoes and accessories. There were dozens of pairs of shoes alone covering the floor in front of him. "How many of these do you own?"

"At last count, around 150 pairs," she answered excitedly. "I didn't think everything would fit in the closet, but the Library just keeps adding more space when I'm not looking!"

She set him to work putting her clothes and shoes away, but he quickly found it to be a daunting task. A woman's closet was a much different animal than a man's, he decided. His own closet was the very picture of order and tidiness, but organizing a closetful of fairly uniform suits, ties and shoes was a far cry from trying to organize all of these brightly-colored, flimsy bits and pieces of outfits that Cassandra owned. He wasn't even sure what some of the pieces were, let alone how to arrange them.

He decided that the best course of action was to put everything he could on hangers and let Cassandra sort them out later to her liking. As a result, he had made a pretty mess of her closet by the time Cassandra came to check on him. She froze in the doorway as she took in the miasma of clothes hung randomly, crammed onto the racks and shelves, shoes placed willy-nilly with no thought towards order of any kind, not even simple color-coding. Most alarmingly, there was a huge pile of single shoes in the middle of the closet, none of which had a mate anywhere in sight.

"Um, Jenkins, sweetheart, I know you're not finished here, but would you be willing to switch jobs? I have some boxes that need to be put away before bedtime and I don't think I'll be able to get to them."

"Of course," he gratefully agreed, getting to his feet and dusting off his trousers. "What is it that you need done, my dear?" She led him over to a massive mahogany dresser, where several boxes were stacked.

"Here, just stick all of this stuff in this dresser. It doesn't matter what goes into which drawer."

As Cassandra left him to go and quietly rescue her closet, Jenkins opened one of the boxes, reached inside and pulled out a handful of brightly-colored, satiny...things. Puzzled, he dropped the items on top of the dresser and picked one up; it turned out to be a microscopic scarlet thong. The Caretaker's eyes widened in wonder as he slowly turned the tiny scrap of satin over in his large hands. The next thing he knew, his mind's eye was picturing his pretty Librarian wearing the scandalous garment—and nothing else. He closed his eyes and sighed happily, a smile blossoming on his face as he imagined such a glorious sight.

Several minutes later, Cassandra found him standing next to the dresser, head slightly back, eyes closed, her red thong clutched to his chest, a wistful look on his face. Cassandra rolled her eyes. This wasn't the first time she'd caught him like this. "Jenkins?"

The daydreaming immortal started. "Cassandra, my dear! I, um...I was just...reflecting...on how much ladies' undergarments have changed over the centuries..." he spluttered, his cheeks blushing.

"Yeah, 'reflecting'," the redhead said sarcastically as she snatched her thong from his hands. "Horn dog! I can see that assigning you THIS job was a mistake."

"R-r-r-r-uff!" he barked lustily as he wrapped a long arm around her waist and pulled her close, planting a kiss on her forehead. The Librarian laughed and squirmed away from him as she opened a drawer of the dresser and swept the panties into it. He was about to help her with the rest of the boxes when her cell phone rang.

"You put the rest of that away while I see who this is," she sniggered as she left the room. "And try not to drool on anything!"

"No promises," he said airily as he threw his hands into the air helplessly.

#####

A few minutes later Cassandra returned, her face pale and visibly upset. Jenkins was immediately at her side.

"Cassandra, what's wrong?" he asked with apprehension. "Has something happened?"

She glanced up miserably into his face and then walked over to an armchair and sat down. She began plucking at the hem of her short plaid skirt as Jenkins pulled another chair close and joined her, taking one of her cool hands in his and squeezing it reassuringly.

"Cassandra?" he asked again, gently.

She looked at their joined hands and bit her lower lip, then brought her head up to meet his worried gaze. "That was my parents on the phone. They know about us," she said mournfully.

Jenkins narrowed his dark brown eyes in puzzlement. "I'm afraid I don't understand, my dear. What do you meant 'they know about us'? You've never told them about me?"

The Librarian shook her head quickly. "No, I didn't. I _meant_ to, but I just...I could never get the nerve up." She sighed and stood up from the chair to begin pacing.

"I hardly hear a word from them in three years, not even after the surgery! And then suddenly they just decide to drop in for a surprise visit!" she burst out, her voice full of frustration. "They went to my apartment looking for me, and my landlady told them that I'd moved out of my apartment and in with my boyfriend—my _MUCH older_ boyfriend. And now they're freaking out and demanding to meet you!" She was near to tears by now.

The Caretaker stood and took her in his arms for a comforting hug. "Now, my dear, there's nothing to worry about. I'll be happy to meet them."

"But I don't _want_ you to meet them!" she cried, pulling away from the tall man and turning away from him.

Jenkins blinked, even more confused now than before. "You _don't_ want...? Why?" His eyes widened as an idea came suddenly to him, and it stung him deeply.

"Cassandra, are you...ashamed of me? Of us?" he asked quietly.

She whirled around to face him again, her eyes wide with horror. "Oh, no! NO, Jenkins!" she protested, throwing herself back into his arms again.

"No! I'm not ashamed of you! I'm ashamed of _them_!"

Now he was completely confused. "Cassandra, my dear, please sit down and tell me what this is all about."

He led her back to the chairs and they sat down. Jenkins took both of her hands in his and waited for her to speak.

"I couldn't tell them. I guess I didn't want to tell them about you because I was afraid of what their reaction would be," she began sadly. "I know that they'll never approve."

"Because of the age difference," he volunteered with a small sigh.

Cassandra gave him a small wry smile. "That's just a convenient excuse for them. They wouldn't approve of _anyone_ I was in a relationship with, they'd find something wrong with them. They won't approve of you because it would make _them_ look bad if any of their friends found out that their already squirrely daughter had hooked up with some scheming old weirdo."

Jenkins stared at her in disbelief as she continued. "I can promise you that they're going to think you're some kind of pervert who's taking advantage of me for whatever reason. Even if I tell them it's not true, they won't believe me. They'll think I'm just being naïve, or that I'm just too stupid or gullible or something like that."

"Surely they don't think so little of you or your judgment?" he queried, lightly stroking her soft skin.

Cassandra snorted in derision. "Oh, yes they do! They haven't thought very much of me or my judgment, especially after I was diagnosed with the tumor." There was an edge of bitterness in her voice now.

"They haven't thought very much about _anything_ except what a disappointment I've turned out to be, how they got screwed by fate by having a child that ended up being damaged goods." She bowed her head and fell silent.

"I was supposed to be a famous mathematician and bring all sorts of 'honor and glory' to them as the parents of a genius. And I cheated them of that by getting sick."

Jenkins didn't know what to say, but he wasn't going to insult her with platitudes. He knew all too well what it was like to have parents who sought to achieve great things through their offspring, who had far too many expectations but far too little love for their child, and it angered him.

She looked up again and into his eyes. "I also didn't tell them about you is because I was afraid of what they would say or do. To you, I mean. They can be…harsh, sometimes, especially my mother. I was afraid that if you met them, saw what they were like, that maybe you wouldn't want to be with…that maybe you would have second thoughts about…us."

"Oh, Cassandra…" Jenkins murmured as he leaned over and hugged her tightly. "I would never do something like that, you know that. There is nothing your parents—or anyone else, for that matter—can say or do that would drive me away from you." He sat back in his own chair and clasped her hands between his again.

"Now, when do they want to meet us?"

"They wanted to meet this evening, for dinner, but I don't think I can do an entire dinner with them. I suggested drinks in the bar at their hotel instead. Would that be okay with you? If you don't like that we can do something else…"

"That'll be fine," he assured her, giving her one of his warmest smiles. It melted her heart and her fears, and, as he had hoped, coaxed a smile from her in return.

"Now, shall we get back to work, my dear?" he said as he stood and offered her his arm. "We still have a great deal of unpacking to do before this evening."

#####

The back door of the Annex began to glow a faint bluish color and the doors swung quietly open. Cassandra Cillian burst through them almost immediately. As soon as she cleared the doors she stopped for a moment to frantically kick off her high heels, then ran straight for her suite of rooms in her bare feet, sobbing. A few moments later Jenkins entered the Annex, his face like stone. He looked around quickly for Cassandra, but saw only her discarded shoes. He picked them up and quickly headed for their rooms.

The evening had not gone well at all. The Cillians were waiting for them in the bar when they arrived, Jenkins immaculately dressed in a black two-piece suit with a perfect, blindingly-white shirt. He wore a dark violet silk tie that closely matched the deep plum color of the clingy, sleeveless cocktail dress that Cassandra wore. They made a striking couple as they entered the bar, Jenkins politely holding the door open for Cassandra to pass through first.

Cassandra spotted her parents seated in a quiet corner table of the bar. As the introductions were being made, the first thing out of Mrs. Cillian's mouth was to ask Cassandra if she had gained weight, quickly followed by a comment on how such a revealing dress must make a man of Jenkins's advanced years feel like a hormonal teenager again. The evening plummeted downhill at a breakneck speed from there.

Jenkins, long-accustomed to quickly sizing up enemies, soon realized that Cassandra's mother, Margaret Cillian, was a narcissist and a shrew, while her husband, Edward, was a weak-willed enabler. Mrs. Cillian took every opportunity to crow about her own achievements and to show herself off in the best possible light, at Cassandra's expense. Jenkins did his best to counter the older woman's acid tongue by praising Cassandra for everything from her intelligence and mathematical genius to her kindness and beauty, but every compliment he paid to Cassandra was shot down with a mean-spirited rebuttal from Mrs. Cillian.

Most of her venom was aimed at Cassandra, but she had some nasty barbs for Jenkins, too, mostly about his age. "How on earth do you keep up sexually with all of these much younger, morally uninhibited women these days, Mr. Jameson?" Mrs. Cillian wanted to know, while looking directly at her daughter. "I can just _imagine_ what Cassandra must be like, she was always so… _boy-crazy_ , you know. After she dropped out of school, she just seemed to have a whole string of unsavory men traipsing in and out of her life. Man after man after man after man!" The mortified Librarian numbly sat next to Jenkins with her head down, silent, her arms wrapped tightly in front of her as she wished the ground would simply open up and swallow her.

As if the denigrating remarks weren't enough, Mrs. Cillian also told stories about Cassandra's childhood—embarrassing stories, ranging from how difficult Cassandra had been to potty-train and the way to the time Margaret caught her kissing a low-class neighborhood boy. According to Mrs. Cillian, Cassandra had been a spoiled, difficult, ungrateful child who wasted her talents. She did everything in her power to ruin her parents' lives, even after all of the sacrifices they had made and all of the love and support they had showered upon her. Cassandra tried at first to defend herself, to contradict what her mother was saying, but Mrs. Cillian was ruthless. Mr. Cillian, thoroughly cowed, simply sat and either agreed with his wife or said nothing at all.

Jenkins was astounded by the sheer, delusional cruelty of the woman. She even posited that perhaps the doctors had misdiagnosed Cassandra's condition, that it hadn't been terminal tumor at all; when she insinuated that Cassandra somehow knew of the misdiagnosis and took advantage of it to garner attention and sympathy for herself, the Caretaker had had enough. The memories of that agonizing night in the hospital waiting room, begging every god he could think of to spare Cassandra's life, were still too fresh and raw.

He stood abruptly and cut the infuriating woman off mid-sentence, simply saying to the Cillians in a tone that brooked no argument that he and Cassandra could stay no longer. He helped the miserable Librarian up from her seat and ushered her quickly from the hotel. As soon as they were outside, Cassandra burst into tears and ran away from him in the direction of the Annex portal, Jenkins hurrying after her.

He entered their bedroom went directly to Cassandra's new suite of rooms. Standing at the door and listening, he could hear the distraught young woman inside the sitting room, crying. He knocked lightly before he pushed the heavy door open, and found her sprawled on the chaise lounge, her face buried in a thick pillow to muffle her sobs.

He quickly crossed the room to the chaise and sat down next to Cassandra, gently placed one hand on her back. "Cassandra...?" he said quietly.

Cassandra instantly sat up and turned her tear-stained face to his, hiccupping. As soon as her watery blue eyes met his worried brown ones, she burst into fresh tears and slowly slid her arms around him. She buried her face in his chest and sobbed again uncontrollably.

Jenkins said nothing, only held her while she cried, stroking her hair and her back consolingly. After several minutes the storm was passed, and Cassandra pushed herself away from the Caretaker. Jenkins pulled his handkerchief from his coat and gave it to her. She smiled weakly as she accepted it and began wiping the tears and smudged make-up from her face.

"I think ruined your coat; sorry," she said remorsefully.

"The coat can be cleaned," he answered, reaching a hand out to lightly brush her damp cheek. "I'm sorry about what happened tonight."

Cassandra blinked rapidly as she tried to stop more tears from falling. She stared sightlessly at the soggy, mascara-stained handkerchief in her hands, her lower lip quivering.

"Why don't they love me, Jenkins?" she asked, her tiny voice quavering. "Parents are supposed to love their kids, aren't they? What did I do that makes them hate me so much?"

Jenkins took her face in both of his hands and turned it to face him, looking intently into her eyes as he spoke.

"You've done _nothing_ wrong, Cassandra! The fault lies with them. Do NOT blame yourself for _their_ shortcomings!" he said fiercely. "You are a brilliant, beautiful, generous, warm person, Cassandra. Eve, Flynn, Jacob and Ezekiel, even the Library itself—they all love you, because you are entirely lovable. But even all of them put together don't come anywhere _close_ to how much _I_ love you." He leaned forward and kissed her forehead.

"I'm sorry for all of the horrible things she said about you, too." Cassandra miserably whispered to him, as though she hadn't even heard him. "I'm sorry you had to hear all of those ugly stories about me. They're not _all_ true..."

"I know that, my dear," he said reassuringly. Cassandra's face crumpled into tears again as she remembered the things her mother had said.

"I've never felt so humiliated in my life!" she cried, reaching for Jenkins again. She held onto him tightly as the immortal wrapped his arms around her and held her close, softly murmuring words of encouragement and comfort.

Cassandra backed away from his embrace and kissed him, softly at first, then more hungrily. When she looked at him, Jenkins saw desperate want in her eyes.

"Please, Jenkins," she whispered, almost whimpering, brushing his lips again. "I need you."

The older man looked at her with uncertainty, but the Librarian stood up and gently tugged on his hands. "Please?"

Jenkins stood and followed her to the bedroom. He sensed it wasn't really sex that Cassandra wanted so much as she wanted to _feel_ loved and desired, needed and cherished by someone. He trailed her to the bed, where they slowly undressed each other. He took control and made love to her, taking his time, doing everything for her with no concern at all for his own pleasure or satisfaction. He was careful and deliberate, his kisses soft and lingering, his caresses gentle and comforting, the whole time whispering romantic endearments and declarations of his love for her. Cassandra clung to him the entire time, as though this man was the only thing keeping her from being swept away in a torrent of despair.

When they were both sated, she continued to cling to him, her head resting on his chest as he lay on his back; she could hear his heart beating, steady and soothing. The knight had one arm around her protectively, his hand lightly stroking her silky red hair. For a long time they were silent, then Jenkins spoke to her quietly.

"A penny for your thoughts, my love."

Cassandra sighed deeply before she answered. "I feel like I'm the most horrible daughter in the world."

"Why?"

Jenkins felt her lashes brush against his skin as she blinked quickly, her voice quavering as she struggled not to cry again.

"Because I don't love my parents," she whispered, ashamed. The young woman heard the air rushing into his lungs as Jenkins took a deep breath, and she held her own breath as she waited for the condemnation she just knew was coming.

"That doesn't make you a horrible daughter, Cassandra..." he began kindly.

"Yes, it does!" the Librarian interrupted. "Children are supposed to love their parents, no matter what! I hear stories all the time about people who were abused by their parents—people who had it a _million_ times worse than I did—and they always say that despite what their parents did to them, they _still_ love them. I've _tried_ to love my parents, Jenkins, I've tried so hard, but...I just _don't_! I just can't find any love for them anywhere inside of me, all I have is fear and disgust and...and hate! I just wish I never had to see or speak to them again! And it makes me feel like the most awful, ungrateful child in the world! I wish I'd never been born!"

Jenkins felt warm droplets fall onto his chest and slide down his side. He tightened his arm around the unhappy woman and closed his eyes, his heart aching for her.

"I wish I could take all of this away from you, Cassandra," he murmured sadly into her hair. "I wish I had answers for you, but I don't. I'm the last person in the world who can give advice regarding

relationships with parents. All I can do is tell you with certainty that I love you very much, and I am _immensely_ grateful that you _were_ born. My life would be empty without you in it."

Cassandra remembered then the very troubled history Jenkins had with his own parents. She sat up suddenly, her hand going to his cheek.

"Oh, Jenkins, I'm so sorry! I have no right to burden you with my problems with my parents when you have your own problems to deal with!" she exclaimed, her face guilt-stricken. He placed his hand over her mouth and turned his head to kiss her palm that was still resting on his cheek.

"Nonsense, my love," he said, looking up into her troubled, sky-colored eyes. "Isn't that one of the things that friends and loved ones are for, to share one another's burdens and to be a safe place to share our deepest, darkest secrets?" Jenkins lightly brushed her bare shoulder and arm with his fingers, watching as goose flesh appeared on her smooth, ivory skin.

"I have an idea of how you're feeling, Cassandra, and I know it hurts, deeply," he said quietly. "Again, the only thing I can say is, don't take the blame onto yourself for the choices _they've_ made. Don't let them punish you for _their_ sins. You're innocent. They know, deep down inside, that what they're doing is wrong, that they're hurting you. I don't know why they continue to do it, why they don't stop hurting you. Perhaps they themselves were raised that way and know no other way to be, not that that's an acceptable excuse, of course."

The unhappy Librarian snorted in derision. "The best reason in the world to _never_ to have children of my own!" she said harshly.

Jenkins regarded her closely, being very careful to keep his expression neutral. "You don't want to have a family of your own?" he asked her quietly.

"Not if it means being a mother like mine!" she hissed, suddenly angry. "I've heard how abuse gets passed on from one generation to the next, like you just said, and I refuse to be part of that. I'd rather die than risk being so cruel to a helpless child!" Cassandra realized suddenly to whom she was speaking, the anger draining out of her.

"Oh! Jenkins...I...I didn't mean to..."

He gave her a small, sad smile and shook his head. "It's all right, my dear."

"But, if you want children, Jenkins, if _you_ want a family, you should be able to have them," she protested, her voice growing faint as she realized what a huge difference of opinion this was between them. "I don't want you to miss out..."

"I would _never_ force you to have children you didn't want," he interrupted somberly. "But at the same time, you shouldn't cut yourself off from possibilities for happiness out of nothing more than fear. _You_ taught me that, remember?"

"But you've seen where I come from!" she said miserably. "Do you really want a psycho-woman as the mother of your kids?"

The immortal sat up and took her hand. "Cassandra, for what it's worth, I think you would be a wonderful mother." He held his hand up to stop another protest.

"Unlike your own mother, you are _aware_. You know and acknowledge your family's history; you can take steps to avert repeating the cycle. You can break it, once and for all. Besides, you're naturally loving, generous, giving. That's part of the reason why the Library chose you in the first place."

Cassandra dropped her eyes, discomfited. "I thought I hated children, but maybe I just hated the _idea_ of children. Because of my parents, and the tumor and everything. But now, since the surgery, and since we've been getting serious as a couple..." She fidgeted with the edge of the blanket nervously. Jenkins felt a tightness form in his chest.

"Are you saying, then, that you want to have children? With me? Some day? Because Mr. Jones led me to believe that you disliked children," he said slowly, cautiously. Despite his prickly exterior, in his heart Jenkins loved children. Sometimes he even went to a playground near the Annex just to watch the children play, daydreaming of what it would've been like to be a father. He'd given up on the idea a long time ago, but then he met Cassandra. New hope had sparked to life within him, despite his best efforts to tamp it down. "Though I may be too old by now to sire children; you should know that," he said, unable to keep bitterness from his voice.

A tiny smile pulled at the corners of Cassandra's mouth. "I...I think it would be...I mean, I think...IF it happens…I _would_ like having a family with you. Some day, I mean..." she stumbled shyly, unable to raise her eyes. "I didn't think _you_ were interested in having kids..."

"It's not something I've let myself think about very much," he lied. "Not since..." His words drifted off at the sudden memory of the unborn child he'd lost over a century ago. A clumsy silence fell between them.

"Do you love your parents, Jenkins?" Cassandra bluntly asked, abruptly changing the subject. She lifted the blanket to cover herself as she shifted her position in the bed next to him. Jenkins dropped his gaze momentarily, then looked back into her face.

"I don't think I can use the word 'love', no," he admitted, choosing his words carefully. He took a deep breath before continuing. "I think I _can_ say, however, that I've made my peace with them, at least as well as I can under the circumstances." He brought her hand to his lips and kissed the backs of her fingers sadly.

"I do wish I could say that I love them, but I can't; it would be a lie."

"Don't you love them at all?" she asked softly. She wasn't going to ask the question, but her curiosity was too great. Jenkins was quiet for a moment as he considered his answer.

"I've forgiven them, and that's more for myself than for them. I _was_ able to reconcile with my mother a few years before she died. I still can't say that I loved her, but at least I was able to stop hating her. Holding on to the pain only made it easier for them to keep hurting me. It took a _very_ long time for me to realize that, though, and to get to the place where I am now. Sometimes I 'backslide' a bit, even to this day, but overall—I'm at peace with the situation. That's the best I can do."

"What about your father?" she asked hesitantly. "Do you think you'll ever be able to reconcile with him?"

"Ah, well," he said softly. "I fear that's one relationship that's...irreparable."

The young Librarian considered the old knight's words for several minutes, then lay down again, bringing him down with her and burrowing into his strong arms, seeking the safety she always felt there.

"Would you help me do that, Jenkins?" she asked timidly. "To at least make some kind of peace with all of this, I mean?"

Jenkins hugged her close. "Of course, my love, I'll help you in any way I can," he assured her.

Cassandra draped her arm across his stomach and tightened it as she tried to snuggle even closer to him. Jenkins felt her begin to tremble, and automatically hugged her small body closer to his.

"I don't want to talk to them anymore, at least not for now," she exclaimed anxiously. "Mom'll call me tomorrow before they leave town, I just don't want to talk to her or dad, not right now. I just can't deal with it anymore, Jenkins! I just can't take her constant put-downs anymore!" She was on the verge of tears again.

The immortal held her tightly. "You don't have to, Cassandra," he said gravely. "You're an adult now, you can choose who to speak to or not, as you see fit. You have the right to determine under what conditions you will see them. All you have to do is tell them."

"No, I can't!" she cried, sitting upright again. "I can't, Jenkins! You saw what they're like tonight, I can't stand up to her, Jenkins, I can't! Every time I'm around her I feel like I'm eight years old again!" Tears began to slide down her pale cheeks. Jenkins sat up and pulled her close, running his hand soothingly up and down her naked back.

"Do you want me to speak with them, my dear?" he asked softly. Cassandra sat back from him and looked sheepishly at the bedding, unable to meet his eyes.

"Would you?" she whispered faintly.

Jenkins placed his hand beneath her chin and gently tipped her head up. "Of course I will, if that's what you want." He leaned forward and kissed her lips softly.

"Now, come here and lay down with me, my love," he said gently. "It's getting late. I don't know about you, but us old caretakers need our beauty sleep. Otherwise, we're very cranky the next day." He was rewarded with a wan smile.

He pulled Cassandra down next to him as he rolled onto his side, winding his arm around her middle and pulling her next to him. He kissed her neck and nuzzled his face into her hair.

"I love you, Cassandra Cillian, with all my heart," he whispered.

The young woman brought his hand up to her lips and kissed it. "I love you, too, Jenkins."

#####

Margaret Cillian, closely followed by her suitcase-laden husband, jerked open the door to their hotel room, and was startled to find herself glaring up into the face of a tall, elderly, nattily-dressed man, his hand up as if he was just about to knock on the door.

"Mr. and Mrs. Cillian," the man's deep voice rumbled quietly. For a moment, Margaret was confused; how did this stranger know her name? She was already in a foul mood; she'd just tried to get hold of her daughter, but the exasperating girl was refusing to answer her phone. Now there were strangers accosting her in her own hotel room! Then she recognized him.

"You're that man my daughter is involved with—Jameson, isn't it?" she said shortly. "Is Cassandra with you? I've been trying to call her for HOURS, but she's not answering her phone!"

"Cassandra isn't here, and she has blocked your number," he informed her calmly, not bothering to correct her regarding his name. "She doesn't wish to have any contact with you for the time being. She finds it to be too stressful."

"Stressful?!" the older woman yelped. "What on earth are you talking about? And what do you mean, she's blocked my number?"

"Perhaps we should discuss this in your room?" he suggested smoothly.

"We'll discuss this right here, right now!" snapped Margaret Cillian. "What do you mean Cassandra has blocked my number?! I demand that you answer me this instant!"

"As you wish, madam," Jenkins bowed slightly in acquiescence. If the stupid woman wished to make a complete ass of herself in public, that was certainly her right.

"Cassandra finds it difficult to talk to you sometimes," he responded blandly, unshaken by the woman's anger. Mrs. Cillian narrowed her eyes as she looked daggers at the tall man in front of her.

"This is _your_ doing, isn't it?" she hissed. "I knew, the second I laid eyes on you—I just _knew_ that you were trouble! No decent man your age would be chasing after a girl Cassandra's age; my God, you're old enough to be her _grandfather_!" she sneered in disgust as she tore into the immortal.

"But, of course, that stupid little fool was _always_ attracted to your type: Conniving, scheming, manipulative perverts, the lot of you! I swear she does it just to get back at me, though why, I can't even begin to guess! I've given up so much for that girl, worked so hard to give her a good life, the best education, sacrificed so much to nurture her gifts—and _this_ is how she repays me! By shacking up a sick, twisted, debauched, pedophilic sugar daddy!"

Jenkins's eyes grew hard and dark as onyx. He cared nothing for what the woman thought of him personally, but he was enraged to hear this vile woman speak so hatefully about her own daughter— _his_ Cassandra. He opened his mouth to give this harpy the dressing down she'd so richly earned, but was cut off by a sharp voice coming from behind him.

"Mother, _stop it_!" Cassandra stepped forward and stood next to the surprised Jenkins, taking his hand in her own. She looked up at him shyly.

"I realized I didn't have a right to ask you to fight my battles," she said contritely. He began to protest, but she shook her head. "This is something only _I_ can do."

Looking down at her, he squeezed her hand encouragingly. She squeezed his back as she turned and glared at her mother.

"Cassandra, what on earth...?" Mrs. Cillian began defensively, but Cassandra interrupted her.

"Shut up, Mom!" snapped the redhead, angry again. " _You're_ going to listen to _me_ now. I don't _ever_ want to hear you speak to Jenkins like that again! He is NOT a pervert, he is NOT taking advantage of me, he is NOT my sugar daddy! He is the sweetest, kindest, bravest, most noble man in the world, and he treats me like a queen. He loves me— _for me_! Not for what I can do for him or for how good I can make him look in front of his friends or anything like that. He loves me for being ME, just the way I am! And I'm crazy in love him, too! Jenkins is the _best_ thing that's ever happened to me, and I'm NOT going to let you or anyone else ruin it for me! Do you understand me?"

Margaret Cillian and her husband were both gaping at their daughter, mouths hanging open and eyes wide. The pair looked from the livid face of Cassandra to the proudly beaming face of Jenkins, then back to Cassandra. Margaret was the first to recover from the shock of her daughter's defiance.

"Cassandra Cillian, how dare you?!" she gasped. "I'm your _mother_! How _dare_ you talk to me like that!?" She pinned Jenkins with a withering stare.

"Well, I hope YOU'RE happy, Mr. Jameson!" she spat. "Seducing a senseless, naive girl and turning her against her own mother! You…you… _homewrecker_! How do you even sleep at night?!"

The immortal straightened to his full, towering height and lifted his head slightly, gazing haughtily down his nose at the angry woman, a small smile on his lips.

"I assure you, madam, I sleep very contentedly every night, with my beloved Cassandra in my arms."

"It's not his fault, Mom!" Cassandra shot back before the older woman could respond to Jenkins.

"It's yours, it's _all_ your fault! I'm sick of you and your constant carping, and it stops _today_! You've done nothing but criticize me and push me and dictate to me my entire life, and I'm sick of it! Nothing I do is ever good enough for you, nothing I achieve is ever enough! You have to have MORE. All the time—More, more, more! Even if it means I have _nothing_ , you have to have more. Even if it means taking away what little I _do_ have, you have to have that little bit!" The Librarian's fiery temper was fully stoked by now.

"You've done nothing except belittle me and humiliate me from the moment I was born! Any time people paid more attention to me, any time YOU weren't the center of attention, you had to cut me down! You didn't care how much you were hurting me, your own daughter! You didn't care about my gifts or talents, except for how much attention they could get for you! And then, when I got sick, I became a burden, a useless disappointing burden! If you _really_ loved me…" Cassandra choked on the words as she fought to maintain control of the tears threatening to overwhelm her.

"Well, no more, Mom, do you hear me? NO MORE! You took my childhood, you took my gift, you took _everything_ , but THIS you CAN'T have—"She tightly clutched Jenkins's arm next to her. "You can't have the life I've made for myself now with Library, you can't have the gifts that I've been given now, and you _certainly_ can't have Jenkins!" Releasing the immortal, she stepped forward, narrowing her eyes and planting her hands on her hips.

"You apologize, to me AND to Jenkins, _right now_!"

Cassandra was nearly screaming by now. People all along the hallway were poking their heads out of their rooms to see what the commotion was about, then quickly pulling them back inside and quietly closing their doors.

"I'll do no such thing!" Mrs. Cillian said, aghast at the idea. "I have _nothing_ to apologize for! I think you're the one who owes me—and your father—an apology, young lady!"

Cassandra set her jaw and took several breaths to calm herself. She stepped back and linked her arm with Jenkins's, staring at her mother defiantly as she spoke to her in a cool, low voice.

"Then until you admit that you're a bully and apologize to me AND to Jenkins, I don't ever want to hear from either of you again!" She turned to look up at Jenkins.

"Come on, sweetheart. Let's go home!"

"Safe travels, Mr. Cillian, Mrs. Cillian," Jenkins offered breezily, nodding his head slightly. The Caretaker and the Librarian then turned without another word and walked calmly away the room, leaving the enraged Margaret Cillian to vent her frustration and anger on the hapless Edward.

## ###

Once they were out of sight of her parents, Cassandra began to walk quickly, pulling Jenkins by the hand to get him to hurry.

"Cassandra! What's the rush?" he asked, somewhat concerned. She suddenly looked a little pale.

The redhead stopped and turned to face him, her eyes wide and panicked. "Jenkins, if I don't find a restroom _right now_ , I'm going to throw up right here in the hallway!" she ground out between clenched teeth.

The startled Caretaker immediately took her by the hand and they all but ran down the stairs to the hotel lobby, where they located the public restroom. Cassandra shoved open the first door she came to, which just happened to be the men's room, and ran as fast as she could for a stall, her hands covering her mouth. Jenkins was right behind her. Fortunately, they had the facilities to themselves this early in the morning.

Cassandra threw herself onto the floor in front of the toilet, retching and heaving. At first Jenkins wasn't sure what he should do; in the end he went to her and stood behind her. Reaching out, he pulled her long red locks back from her face and held them there with one hand, while the other gently rubbed her back sympathetically as the poor woman continued to vomit. Fortunately, Cassandra couldn't see the look of utter revulsion on his face at the sights, sounds and smells his poor Librarian was producing. When it was over, he flushed the toilet, helped Cassandra get shakily to her feet, and led her out of the stall and over to the row of sinks. He pulled his handkerchief from his trousers and dampened it under a faucet, then handed it to her.

"Thanks, Jenkins," she said weakly as she wiped her face and mouth with the cool, soft cloth. "I can't believe I did that—I can't believe I actually _stood up_ to my mother! I can't believe I actually told her to shut up! I can't believe I actually did any of that, oh my God!" The babbling woman turned to look at Jenkins standing next to her.

"Do you think I did the right thing?" she asked, uncertainty in her voice. "I mean, I came to tell her all of that stuff anyway, but then I heard the way she was talking to you and those nasty things she said, and it just made me so mad—I didn't mean to go off like that, I didn't mean to yell like that…"

Jenkins put his arm around her shoulders and hugged her to himself.

"I thought you were magnificent!" he said. "I'm _very_ proud of you, Cassandra—that took a tremendous amount of courage!" She looked up at the smiling immortal.

"You think so?" she asked. "Part of me feels _really_ good right now, but part of me also feels _really_ …bad." She sighed and leaned her head heavily against his broad chest. He knew exactly how she felt.

"I'm so glad I have you to lean on right now, Galahad," she whispered. "I couldn't have done it without knowing that you would be here for me afterward." The old knight felt a lump threatening to form in his throat. He gave her another quick hug and coughed softly as he tried to maintain his composure.

"Yes, well," he murmured softly. "I think it's time we went home, my dear, don't you? And perhaps on the way we can stop at the donut shop I saw on the corner and treat ourselves to a little something sweet for breakfast...If you think you can keep it down, that is." She looked up into his sparkling brown eyes and smiled.

"I'd like that," she agreed. She put her hand behind his neck and pulled his head down so she could kiss him. He began to return the kiss, but with a muffled grunt, he pulled away from her roughly, his face blanching. He closed his eyes and covered his mouth with the fingers of one hand, and stood motionless for a few seconds, swallowing hard.

"Jenkins, what is it?" the confused Librarian exclaimed in alarm. The immortal lowered his hand and opened his eyes.

"Cassandra, my dear," he rasped. "I love you dearly, but if you plan on kissing me again today, I'm afraid I must insist that you brush your teeth first; you taste somewhat…gamey, at the moment!"

Cassandra burst into laughter as she slipped her arm into Jenkins's, and the two headed happily for home.


End file.
